


Arrange My Future

by cjjade



Series: Kinktober Flash Fiction Project (2020) [12]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Abrupt Ending, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Courting Rituals, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani is an Incurable Romantic, Kinktober 2020, M/M, but not really in a bad way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:02:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27068335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjjade/pseuds/cjjade
Summary: Day 12 of Kinktober; After a war it is decided Nicolò and Yusuf should marry, Yusuf/Joe is a romantic no matter what universe.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: Kinktober Flash Fiction Project (2020) [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947481
Comments: 8
Kudos: 155





	Arrange My Future

**Author's Note:**

> Flash Fiction is a story written and edited within a time limit, usually one hour. 
> 
> I am sorry, the internet keeps going out and it's in my roommates name and they won't call about it. So it is basically a "will I have it, won't I have it" kind of thing. It getting very frustrating. 
> 
> This ends very abruptly as I ran out of time. May came back to this and add on, as it didn't really end well.

**Prompt: Arrange Marriage**

**Time Limit: 3 Hours**

**Arrange My Future**

Nicolò Duke of Genoa was proud of his Genoa heritage, he was proud of the people he came from, what he was not proud of was his family or the way the Roman Court treats other outside of their empire. When it came to family it was more so his brother and father, who had proved they had an appetite for blood and misery. After long last the war between his people, and the people across the sea was coming to an end. Standing on the boat he wished he could feel happiness for this, but the end of this war marked an end of him to Genoa.

His father was the seventh son to the king, as such neither he nor his brother had any real claim to the throne. Not that his brother thought this was true, nor his father. His father who of course held a title of Prince, something that he never let anyone forget. He was the youngest son to the king, a king who was failing in health. Some days barely able to move about freely. His life was coming to an end in the near future. His grandfather never wanted this war, but his brother had started it even before Nicolò Great-Grandfather died. 

And Roman law stated that no king could overrule an executive order by another, and War was held as the highest executive order. 

The only way to end this war was by a peace treaty, and that was proving to be harder than anyone imagined. If The Maghreb agreed then the Scythia did not, and if they agreed his grandfather could not, for there were things he could not give that they claimed were owed. So, war raged for decades. Nicolò had fought in the battles that were waged on their soil, though it brought him no pleasure to do so. Unlike his brother, and most his cousins. But his father and uncles would go on about how those battles were child’s play compared to their days. 

The horrors that The Maghreb and The Scythia people would inflict on their prisoners, only Nicolò knew too well.

Nicolò was the youngest grandson, he was also the kindest, and the one with the most scars. The people of his grandfather’s kingdom loved him, he brought joy and hope everywhere he went for he never thought himself above the people. He fought with them as they were his equal, never his subjects. His brother wore one of their father's old crown declaring he was the son of a Roman Crowned Prince, it was his right. Nicolò refused. Hated when he was announced as Nicolò Duke of Genoa. More because his title meant nothing. The people named him Nicolò di Genova. For he was a man of the people, not the crown. 

Now he stood about to step on soil that no one from Roman soil had stepped on in a name of peace since his grandfather was a young man. So young, the eldest of his father's brothers were still years from being born. His grandfather's brother had deemed this route this their way of trade, The Maghreb had attempted a compromise. His Great-Uncle was a cruel and greedy king, he did not care about any one thing but profit, thus war broke out, then he dared to insult The Scythia. To this day, Nicolò still had no idea what had been going through his head. How he could think what he did would benefit The Roman Empire?

Scythians were not known for their forgiveness nor their kindness, they had fought with a passion that not one man from his own empire could mimic. 

Nicolò was here for peace, as much as his heart ached for Genoa, he wanted this peace. His grandfather had told him he was to marry whoever The Maghreb king deemed worthy of him. His father screamed insult, his mother cried as he boarded the ship, while his brother laughed faking a cough as his eyes twinkled in delight. There were bets going on between most his brother and his friends on if he could make it even a year, all forgetting his time in battle. Nicolò would do what he must for peace, for all their people. His grandfather knew he’d never refuse anything that would stop people from suffering and dying. 

So when King Ibrahim named his future bride he would accept with a smile and kiss to her hand.

“Nicolò,” A man announced his accent not like any he’d heard before, so he must be more east outside The Roman empire. “Duke of Genoa.” The man finished pointing to Nicolò then with a smile looked towards a couple. He knew they must be the King and Queen. “Their royal highnesses King Ibrahim and Queen Amira.” Nicolò bowed towards them smiling as his mother taught him, they smiled in return. “And their son his grace, Yusuf al-Kaysani, Crowned Prince and Heir of The Maghreb.”

“Welcome milord,” Amira stated her smile was forced, but her tone was gently. “I hope your journey was well.”

“Thank you your grace,” Nicolò stated smiling kind, looking towards Yusuf who eyed him carefully. “The journey was smooth.” Everyone nodded, Nicolò watched as King Ibrahim looked at his son who made it clear he did not want the Roman here. “It is a custom in my county of Genoa to always present gifts as a way of gratitude.” Yusuf now smiled softly eyes looking around, his mother shaking her head at her son. A man walked forwards opening a chest of books

“Are those…” Yusuf gasped taking one step forward. “The Dairies of Omar of Morocco.” Yusuf had been obsessed with his work since he was a boy.

“They were given to my Great-Great-Grandmother by Omar himself,” Nicolò stated proudly looking down to them with such pride. They had been his greatest possession. “These very books were how I learned to read and speak your language as a small boy.”

“These are yours,” Yusuf asked softly seeing the look of sorrow on his face for the first time.

“Books such as these cannot be owned by mortal man,” Nicolò told him, Yusuf smiling widely. “They must be shared…”

“Thus, they may live on in the hearts of the pure,” Yusuf finished, Amira frowning looking at Ibrahim who smiled kindly.

Nicolò was soon taken to what he assumed would be a host home, but found he was staying with the royal family themselves. His aid who he found to be named Marco, explained that his life was the responsibility of the king until after the wedding. Should any harm fall on him it would be an act of war. Though Roman Empire has been trying for peace for years under the rule of his grandfather some of their allies were not so keen. The court had profited greatly from war. Nicolò's death would be the best way to start a new war, one that could not be ended by a simple treaty. 

Ibrahim for this reason has insured that Nicolò be guarded at all times by his own personal guards. These men like Marco have sworn their blade and life to Ibrahim, betrayal for money or position has no meaning to them. Nicolò nods, he knew once he left Roman soil he would be a target, but it sounded like they had already stopped one attempt. Though he holds no claim to the throne as he has six uncles, his father, plus male cousins and his brother before him. Many of them had argued he should not even be a Duke, but his father silenced them, he was the grandson to the king. His grandfather gave what many knew to be a title in name only, it held no power, position in court, nor land.

It meant nothing, just that he is a direct relative to the King. Thus why it burned almost every member of his family that the people choose a new name for him. 

Nicolò walked out into what he was sure was their grand hall. It was beautiful. Nicolò smiled as his eyes followed all the color, so far the people had been nothing but respectful. He discovered that Yusuf was the only son and had been named Ibrahim heir at the legal age of thirteen. Nicolò was not looking forward to when his grandfather died. His uncles were already battling over who was the true heir, since he changed his mind several times. It was already a messy battle, and he was still alive. Nicolò feared a civil war, and if that happened he didn’t know if his people would survive. 

Yusuf had four sisters, two of them older and two of them younger. He also found out that he was three years older than Nicolò. Nicolò being twenty-seven, which made the man thirty, or according to Marco he would be in two weeks. In Genoa it was not uncommon for men to wait until late thirties to marry, especially among noble families. His brother was six years older than him, and just now started eyeing the court for a possible bride. He of course had several offers already, and more would come when he makes it official. 

“Our Yusuf painted that one,” Ibrahim stated proudly, Nicolò grinned at he looked at the beautiful f the night sky filled with shooting stars. “Every twenty or so years our sky lights up with shooting stars,” Ibrahim explained, his own eyes showing his pride. “Won’t happen for about another five years.”

“Something similar happens in Genoa,” Nicolò admitted eyes going to the painting, recalling being a boy next to his mother’s lap. Before reality set it on war and death. “I’ve never seen such talent with my own eyes.”

“Don’t tell him that,” Ibrahim laughed, Nicolò turned to him with a soft smile. “His ego is already big enough.”

Soon he was being led to another room, just as beautiful, but not as large. There were men all around, a couple of them he knew, they were from his grandfather’s court. The moment Nicolò walked in they stiffened up, then bowing respectfully to him as they saw him. Smiles on their face as they greeted him. Nicolò gave them a nod but found this unusual behavior. None of them had ever bowed to him in all his days of being alive. The look on their face made his stomach turn sour, he had a feeling that something had been decided.

They were mocking him.

Nicolò eyed as a woman walked in, while her beauty was beyond any that Nicolò could compare it to, there was an aura about. The way she carried herself was not like any woman that Nicolò had ever encountered, not even on the battlefield. His mother had been born to a king far from Rome. Her skin was pale, her eyes green, and she carried herself tall never bowing down to any man--not even his grandfather. The years in Genoa she said had softened her to the harsh realities that was the world. He knew that like his pending marriage hers had been arranged. He thought her strong, he thought her a rarity among their people, but this woman before him walked as though she was an equal to any man. By the look on every man’s face, it seemed she had proved that too.

Ibrahim knew soon his son would take the throne. He had no idea yet of course, but it was in the works, it had been decided. When he sat down with the Roman King, and the Scythia King Elect many things were decided. The most important, no peace could be with them three on the thrones. The true Scythia King died last year but no one could be named King during war. His only child, Andromache who many knew in battle, would be officiated one month after the peace was official. The King select was Andromache stepbrother and had no desire to be king. 

Rumor said he’d drop to his knees and her feet the day she took the crown from his hands, despite him being a fine ruler. 

The Roman king could barely walk to where they met, his second youngest of his sons, Alexander, had been there by his side. Though few knew he was to be king, the people off all provinces and territories respected him, as they respect Nicolò. Both were men of the people both would live and die for those they rule. Nicolò had lived as they did, had fought as they found, they gave him his name after he bleed for them. He bleed for them for no reason of profit or gain. They would die for him, as some had proven.

Yusuf was Ibrahim only son, so naturally he would rule, there was no one to contest--nor would anyone. Everyone loved him. 

Andromache coronation as King would be first, Ibrahim would send Yusuf to attend as representation. Then six months later Alexander would take his place as Roman King, Ibrahim only hoped the Roman would not die before then. Or civil war would happen. Alive he could hand the crown to Alexander, and no one could contest as his word was law. But if he died, each son could claim rights since he was breaking tradition and denouncing once again who he named heir. Then five months after that, marking it just under a year since the treaty was official Ibrahim was step down and Yusuf would take his place as their people’s new leader.

This was how it needed to be, so all their people could live.

“A decision of my intended has been made I presume,” Nicolò stated looking around, frowning as the woman laughed. “Did I amuse you milady?”

“Andromache of Scythia,” Andromache introduced herself with a playful smirk and a curt bow. “Less amused and more impressed," Andromache stated clapping, Nicolò smiled back, he had heard her reputation. "Rare to see a Roman Prince so publically brazen.”

“Not a Prince,” Nicolò told her coming to stand in front of her, eye sharp. Oh she liked him. “I am Nicolò di Genova.” Andromache smiled genuinely as she nodded, standing taller.

“I’ve heard of you,” Andromache admitted her smile going soft, looking to Yusuf with a nod of hello. Then to the other men, voice going cold. "I believe Nicolò di Genova asked you a question?"

Ibrahim did not like the way Andromache was acting. The softness in her features only meant that Nicolò had somehow without even knowing earned her respect within minutes. Ibrahim too knew of his reputation, everyone did, it was why he was here. Both in a good way and a bad way. They had heard that not a man on the battlefield had matched his skill with a sword. That his eyes were sharp, give him a bow and he could hit any target you named. He also knew he had been taken prisoner more than once. That he had bleed not just for Romans but for other more than once. 

Something no one but him was proud of. 

His Arabic was fluent they had said, one man stating he had never seen a Roman speak it so flawlessly. That same man had said Nicolò had taken a beating so harsh that every man no matter the side prayer to their god to gift Nicolò with death to end his misery. But he lived. He lived and kept his word, every slave in that camp was let go, even those from the Maghreb and Scythia. He had proven he was a man of his word before anything else. Nicolò di Genova had proven that his will to live, to survive could surpass anything that was thrown at him.

"Nicolò will marry my son, Yusuf," Ibrahim announced, watching Yusuf look over to him shocked, oh his mother would rage. Nicolò looked to his grandfather's men who gasped in horror. "Upon the marriage he will earn the title Crowned Prince, Yusuf will be known as High Prince until his coronation." Ibrahim stated calmly, he would explain the rest in private.

"What about an heir," a man stated from the back, Nicolò did not know him yet. "Traditionally speaking your highness," Nicolò saw all eyes went to the man. "When a man, especially one of his royal graces station, take a husband he is older already having sons, and his wife has passed onto the next life." Nicolò and Yusuf looked to Ibrahim, neither wanted to speak.

"By Maghreb law a man who takes a husband first can take a wife one year later," Ibrahim stated looking to Yusuf and Nicolò, seeing a decision had been made already. "Nicolò, Duke of Genoa do you approve of my choice."

"Of course." Nicolò stated smiling, "I am deeply honor your highness." Yusuf looked to him then to Andromache, both could hear his heart shattering with each word.

Nicolò thought coming here would at least give him some freedom, but now he see, he is destined to live a lonely loveless life. Fate was a cruel bitch.

XOXO

Yusuf smoothed down his clothing, he tried to dress as casual as he could. Nicolò was coming to his room, he had asked that they have some time to speak in private. It had been weeks, and he felt like he knew nothing of his soon to be husband. His mother who was still fighting for Ibrahim to change his mind despite the ceremony being next month. Then a month after that they were to attend Andromache coronation. Yusuf had thought they would have a year, enough time to get to know one another, but apparently the treaty would not be active until they wed. His father had pushed for a wedding that week, but had been overruled.

This was the most unromantic thing Yusuf had ever experience in his life.

His mother was pushing for them to choose someone else, they still had time she claimed. His youngest sister who was twenty-two was unmarried, and very beautiful. Her promised died in one of the last battles, not that she cried for the man. She had hated that man with every single ounce in her small body, and Amira could see Nicolò was a decent man. He would treat her daughter with respect and kindness, and not object to a child being raised by their customs. It would be just the same, a member of their family, but Ibrahim had yelled no. Nicolò would marry Yusuf, he would be King Elect, and Yusuf would rule as High King. There was to be no further discussion.

Yusuf had been stunned to find out this had always been the plan. His father and Nicolò's grandfather had decided this before anything else on the treaty. Yusuf found out from Andromache that Nicolò could not say no, that if he did he'd be exiled and marked for death. The whole thing had been a charade, only done because The Maghreb tradition stated Nicolò's must verbally agree. His father could have stated he was to marry the lowest of the low in their kingdom and Nicolò would have to say yes. 

Yusuf felt his heart break for the man.

"You requested to see me your grace," Nicolò stated bowing politely, Yusuf wanted to smack him. It's been weeks!

”We're to be married Nicolò," Yusuf stated watching Nicolò's face remain stoic. "Can we stop with the formalities." Yusuf watched Nicolò turn bright red.

"It's Roman custom to keep with formal titles until after the wedding," Nicolò advised watching Yusuf blink at him. "Sometimes longer," Nicolò went on softly face so red that Yusuf laughed. Andromache had not been lying when she said Romans were stiff, emotionless, and bred on tradition. "But if it is your wish then I will try to remember." Nicolò smiled gently.

"Nicolò," Yusuf told him, needing him to know he'd never push him. Nicolò looked up at him. "You keep telling people, if it is my wish you will do it." Nicolò nodded. "You can say no, it's not always about me."

"I cannot," Nicolò whisperer, watching Yusuf take a step back.

"I don't understand," Yusuf stated motioning for Nicolò to sit down, Nicolò did as he asked.

"Among your people marrying a man appear to be little different than marrying a woman," Yusuf nodded, they had been doing it for centuries. "Among the Roman Empire a male of my station is only offer to another man for marriage if he is deemed....." Nicolò stopped trying to find the right words. "Unworthy to wear his family name." Yusuf frowned, seeing for the first time this was a punishment to Nicolò. "By law I am without a voice, upon marriage I will no long be of Genoa," Yusuf opened his mouth, closed it as Nicolò began speaking again. "By tradition I must obey."

"Why would your grandfather do this," Yusuf whispered, Nicolò had no choice in anything. "it is my order that you speak freely," Yusuf told him watching Nicolò grin softly. "I do not want you to ever do anything simply because I desire it."

Nicolò's smile sent shockwaves through Yusuf's body. The moment he saw him walking towards him Yusuf's voice had been gone he was beautiful. He was wearing white, which at the time he found strange but another custom it seemed. It was customary that when one was being presented for marriage they would wear white. Yusuf had told Andromache that he looked like an angel sent from above. She had laughed rolling her eyes, though she could admit later he was attractive for a Roman. 

He had won Yusuf heart with the gift.

Yusuf noticed in the weeks that his clothing had not changed much, his father explained that his possessions would come after the wedding. Until then he would only have what he brought, then Andromache stated that was probably little. From her spies in the court she had it on good authority his father was not fond of him, and his brother had offered a price for his head. Though she could not find proof of that. She also knew they wanted war, and Nicolò's death right now was the only way to start it. 

Standing up Yusuf walked over, he was now weary about offering this gift, but he had to. His mother was fighting the wedding, his father was trying to keep assassins at bay, and his sisters were doing their best to put together something that would please everyone. Nicolò parents would arrive days before the wedding, Yusuf was hoping the brother would stay away. Nicolò was trying his best to fit it, but it was clear that he struggled. Now Yusuf understood why, Nicolò had no choice, he had to marry Yusuf. 

Nicolò decided this.

"What is this," Nicolò asked as Yusuf place a large package next to them Yusuf grinning like Nicolò had never seen anyone.

"Normally when my people want to ask for marriage we present a gift," Yusuf explained smiling, he watched Nicolò blush deeply again. He watched Nicolò slowly open the package, eyes going wide with a gasp. "Do you like it?" Yusuf own eyes going to the sword then to Nicolò's astonished face.

"Yusuf I have no words," Nicolò muttered slowly standing up, looking at the beautifully crafted long sword. "The hilt matches your own sword." Nicolò grinned eyeing the beautiful gold with a nod.

"Yes my love," Yusuf grinned standing up, feeling his heart flutter. "How did I do? I have no experience with the long sword."

"It is beyond remarkable," Nicolò gasped swinging the sword around, truly amazed by this gift. "Whoever crafted this has my highest praise."

Yusuf smiled could barely be contained as he walked Nicolò back to his room, then grinning goofy when Nicolò kissed his cheek as he said goodnight. Andromache gave her vow as future king that she would stab him if he didn't stop smiling about a kiss on the cheek. But there was something special about Nicolò di Genova. He had watched him with the children, listened as he learned about their food and their customs. The women including his own sisters flocked to him, but not in the way they did Yusuf. They wanted to protect him, guard him. No one went near him without someone knowing, is father's eyes were everywhere

The next day Yusuf brought him flower, watched him blush as he accepted them. The day after that he brought him a book of Omar of Morocco that he never read. Yusuf eyes never leaving Nicolò face as Nicolò read it to him. The day after that it was sweets that had Nicolò giggling with joy as he opened them. Nicolò had never tasted anything like the pastries that Andy had ordered the cook to make. The way he closed his eyes and moaned at the taste had Yusuf promising himself to present Nicolò with gift anytime he could. He wanted to shower him with anything he had never experience before.

"Yusuf," Nicolò laughed blushing once again as he placed a neatly wrapped box on his lap.

Yusuf laughed going to sit next to his soon to be husband, over the weeks he had enjoyed this showering him with gifts. Love watched as his eyes sparkled with joy and utter surprise. Yusuf knew that he was not used to getting gifts. Amira was rolling her eyes as his sister gushed over his romancing his soon to be husband. Amira shrieked the night before when Yusuf told her he did not plan to take a wife. He had three nephews, one of them could easily be named heir. 

His sister looked surprised, but his father told them they could come back to that decision later. 

Yusuf told them no, his voice like none of them had ever heard it. Nicolò had no choice in marrying him, he would not take on another making their union seem anymore forced. Making Nicolò feel like he was less. Yusuf knew it would look badly on Nicolò, he would not have anyone look down on him because his grandfather used him as a way to undo their family mistakes. Nicolò would be his husband, he would have all the power and respect that came with it. Yusuf would not bring anyone else in their bed. Yusuf wanted to hear no more talk of taking a wife. Ibrahim nodded, later revealed he knew Yusuf would take this path. It was clear the moment their eyes met.

Amira was furious.

XOXO

The wedding was in one week, and Nicolò could never recall being this happy in his life. Amira had set out to make his life miserable it seemed, but he knew it wasn't personal she just wanted her son to marry a woman. She wanted him to give her grandchild, despite already having them. She had this idea of what Yusuf's life would be, and that did not involve taking Nicolò as his husband. A husband that was born of the people though she claimed she didn't hate, but she didn't like them either. She had said nothing outright that Nicolò would take offense to but it was clear, she didn't want him as Yusuf's.

Today had begun like it had for weeks, with Yusuf sending a morning treat. They would all meet for breakfast sure but every morning Marco would come in smiling as he placed a tray of something for Nicolò. From different coffees, to teas, to pastries and other goodies from around the world he had never tried. On the tray would always be a small note and a flower. At first they were lines of poetry that Nicolò would recall from various authors. Some days it was tiny sketches he had done most likely the day before or lines of poetry from Yusuf himself. No matter what it left Nicolò feeling warm and giggly. 

After breakfast Yusuf would be ushered off by his mother who stood eyeing Nicolò as Ibrahim rolled his eyes as he followed while Nicolò went on with the wedding planning. After lunch Yusuf always found Nicolò and would present him with another gift, this one more heartfelt. In two days was a kind of pre-wedding celebration. His father's boat was seen, so his parents would be here sometime today maybe tomorrow morning at latest. Tomorrow would be mostly meetings and tours, then the day after that a celebration of the treaty and their pending union. \

Then four days later would be the wedding, which honestly scared Nicolò for reasons he could voice. 

That night Nicolò like he had been for weeks, invited Yusuf to walk with him. It was something Yusuf's sisters had pushed for over and over again, so Nicolò took their advise. The four of them with Nicolò giggled the next day as he retold the story. Yusuf found it strange that Roman men married other men, but they did not court them. Bedding a man was done almost secretly. Marriages was usually a punishment or humiliation for one of them, never joyous or welcomed. Even if the two men loved each other one was seen as less than the other, always. So Yusuf went out of his way to make sure Nicolò understood, this was not a punishment. He set out to court Nicolò in all the same ways he would if Nicolò had not been male. 

Yusuf also quickly learned that Nicolò had never experienced softness, or genuine kindness before. 

Yusuf had kissed Nicolò a few nights before tonight. It wasn't as romantic as he had hoped it to be, wasn't sweeping him off his feet like Yusuf had so planned. He had planned their first kiss to be the night before their wedding but he blew that notion. Yusuf had been walking Nicolò back to his room, the man going on passionately about something. Yusuf could not recall, he just knew that Nicolò face was flushed both from the heat of the outside and the emotion he put into his words. His eyes were dark grey, he had only seen them like that in sparring, like he had been the day before. When Andromache with a smirk and twinkle in her eyes toss water on his face saying he looked to be overheating. 

As they reached Nicolò door Yusuf kissed him. 

Yusuf missed his mouth almost completely, Nicolò's eyes going wide. Yusuf recalled mumbling sorry, face turning bright red as he tried to come up with words. He thought he had misread the situation, then Nicolò bent forward pressing their lips together. It was almost awkward until it wasn't. There outside the hallway in front of Nicolò's door that soon would not be his door. Yusuf's heart pounding, he had never given or received a kiss like this one. It was a kiss of complete innocence, soft, gentle, exploring--so unsure, void of technique or experience. For those few seconds Yusuf felt more connected to Nicolò then he had any other person he had shared his bed or body with.

Then it was over, Nicolò said his good, and Yusuf would deny it but he stood out there in shock starring at Nicolò's door until he heard a noise in the background.

Yusuf swallowed Nicolò cried as Yusuf pushed him against the door Nicolò hands attacking his shirt in an attempt to touch skin. Ibrahim had forced Amira to back off Yusuf today, allowing instead for him to spend the day with his intended. They deserved a day before their city was swarmed with Roman's watching their every move he had claimed. This led to their perfect day. Yusuf had kissed him several time. One of them being caught by Andromache who told them just to go to one of their rooms with a laugh. Yusuf had laughed with her while Nicolò blushed but pulled him along smiling. After dinner Yusuf as always agreed to a walk, his mother huffing about some task while Yusuf just walked off.

That was how Yusuf found himself on his back in the middle of his bed, the moon shining through his room. Gasping loudly, soon his hand going over his mouth to hide the loud whine that escaped, the last thing he needed was one of his servants hearing then bargaining in. Looking down Nicolò eyes met his as his mouth wrapped around Yusuf's cock, the hard thick length sliding down his throat. The small whimpers of pleasure coming out of Nicolò as his throat stretched. Yusuf bit his hand as Nicolò attempted a laugh but instead went lower taking more, coming back up to suck on the head. Then did this thing with his tongue that had Yusuf falling back crying out hitting his wall. 

Nicolò hummed as Yusuf pulled on his hair, he assumed as a warning but Nicolò found no. Nicolò was suddenly on his back Yusuf biting down his body, moaning as the taste of his skin hit his tongue. He wanted to spend all night with Nicolò in his bed but they didn't have that option tonight. Soon they would, soon they would be married but his mother could pop in any moment now. Or his father in place of his mother but he wanted to feel Nicolò inside of him. So as his mouth went to work on his cock, Yusuf finger himself to the same speed.

Nicolò grabbed Yusuf's thick thighs arching his back as Yusuf sat down on his cock. At first slowly, very slowly, Yusuf rarely bottomed. Never because he didn't want to, the amount of times he fucked himself should prove that to any of his past lover. But it didn't, men assumed as prince and heir he would not want that from them, and Yusuf would never beg. Nicolò's hands squeezed his thighs there would be marks, moving up to his sides as Yusuf's movements started to quicken. 

Moaning as Nicolò stretched him, as he felt him deeper and deeper inside of him. Nicolò watched in awe as Yusuf slowly rode him, with his eyes closed, and mouth open letting out breathy whines. He looked like every late night fantasy Nicolò had dared to dream since meeting him. Except better. Nicolò's nails clawing down his back, he was leaving marks all over his body, everyone would know he had been with someone. Someone who had owned his body, claimed it as their own. 

Yusuf eyes closed leaning forward to grab his headboard for support as his moments started to falter, Nicolò hand cupped his face, one staying on his hip. His thumb pressing against his lower lip until Yusuf was tasting his skin. Nicolò was taking over control. Nicolò's hips snapping up hard and fast as Yusuf kept his eyes closed, his mouth now filled with both his thumbs as Nicolò fucked him. "You are a vision," Nicolò breathed. Yusuf shrieking as Nicolò flipped them over, now not caring who heard them, hell he wasn't sure he'd stop if someone walked in. Yusuf hand went through his hair as Nicolò devoured his mouth, hungry. Sucking Yusuf's tongue into his mouth as his hands spread him, opening him up wider than he'd ever been to any lover. " Nicolò."

Nicolò had changed angles.

Yusuf didn't know if it was as loud as he thought, if it sounded as desperate as he heard, but Nicolò went faster. His mouth on Yusuf's skin, there wouldn't be a part of him no marked by his once sworn enemy. Yusuf clinging to him as Nicolò hit the spot Yusuf had been trying to find but failed. "So close," Nicolò whispered into his ear, Yusuf whining, "should I turn you over." That was it, that had Yusuf coming hard and untouched, this time he knew he was screaming. A few more thrust Nicolò was coming inside of him with a cry of Yusuf's name before he fell down on top of him. Yusuf's hands still in his hair, lifting his head to connect their swollen abused lips together.

Minutes later Yusuf was laughing looking over to Nicolò who looked as undignified as he's ever seen the man in months. He never looked this wrecked even after sparring, he always was so put together. Yusuf wanted to see him like this always.

"The guards should be here soon," Yusuf laughed wondering how he would explain this, he was good but not this good. "There's no way they didn't hear me." Nicolò started laughing.

"Oh I took care of them," Andromache stated peering into the room, before walking in. "Don't cover up on my account." Nicolò sighed, she was living up to what he knew about her.

"You know I hate it when you do this," Yusuf grumbled sitting up, watching Nicolò sit up but seemingly not bothered. 

"Don't fear my sweet Nicolò," Andromache swore taking a seat in a chair, voice going low and smooth, "We aren't lovers," Yusuf huffed a laugh hoping he never thought that.

"I know that," Nicolò stated, weirdly calm in Yusuf's opinion for a man who was naked in front of someone months ago was a sworn enemy. "I know your Beloved quite well."

"I know," Andromache stated trying to remain calm, only few knew she searched for what really happened to her. Keane just stated she fell to Romans, but she knew he kept something. "She told me you saved her life before we met She truly believed if more men were like you, the world would be a better place." Yusuf watched his friend, losing Quynh destroyed her, but then her father died, and she had no choice. She had returned home. "Do you have any information on how she died?"

Nicolò was barely considered a man when he ventured East, no one else wanted to go. Land of demons is what they called it, after awhile he understood. No one cared if Nicolò lived or died, as he was always told he held no claim to the throne. So he went. He boarded his ship, and went farther than he had ever gone before or would again. Only they did not stay gone long, but in the short span of a time he learned much. He still recalled coming to that village, the way they looked at them. It was strange to see a land not touched by their war or his people. His men hated it, they held no fear or respect for The Roman empire. But then the same could be said for The Maghreb Kingdom and the Scythia Empire. 

No one cared for any of them.

Quynh was beautiful, but younger than Nicolò. The men of the village had shackled her for daring to speak out of place. She was barely out of childhood. He learned quick in this land women held no place or position of power. They were seen as property, they were meant to look beautiful that was it. Nicolò argued for her, they all laughed at him, but after a negation he won his way. She had been starved and given little water for weeks, her clothing was barely hanging on by a thread. He took her with him, found out her father had sold her. He watched her face light up with humor when he told her he did not believe in owning another person. She stayed with him until they found a place that she would be safe, a group that would help her.

Nicolò heard from his captain years later, that Quynh was now the Beloved of Andromache of Scythia. Andromache had seen the girl getting water from a well, and fallen instantly in love with her. Nicolò laughed when they heard Andromache killed three men that fought for Quynh hand, before every man just gave up. Andromache gave her the title Beloved, which in Scythia was scared. Once Andromache was named King she could marry Quynh, since as King they had the right to dissolve any marriage or pending marriage agreement. 

Andromache was taken aback by how Nicolò laughed at her.

"Is that what you believe," Nicolò stated watching her gaze at him strangely, then Yusuf. "That explains much." Nicolò slide out of bed sheet wrapped around his body. "Quynh still lives."

"You lie," Andromache yelled standing up, eye sharp, Yusuf watched Nicolò shake his head face soft.

"Your General Keane is the one who told you of her death, no," Nicolò asked watching Andromache nod, Yusuf began pulling his pants on going to stand next to her buttoning them up. "He's the one who sold her to my captain." Andromache shook her head no. "Is he not the one you are promised to." Yusuf closed his eyes. "Quynh was never harmed by me or my men, it was something we did. I am against slavery," Andromache

closed her eyes again, she recalled Quynh telling her that, how they laughed. "My captain remembered her well, he also knew she was your Beloved. Quynh was weak for months, her injuries from him..."

"You have her," Yusuf asked softly taking Andromache hand who was shaking.

"As I stated I don't believe in owning slaves," Nicolò stated watching Andromache face drop to one of sorrow. "But yes I kept her with the full intentions of reuniting her with Andromache. She does nothing but speak of you" Andromache opened her mouth then closed it unable to find words. "When I was told of my fate my captain who is loyal only to me left with her." Andromache felt her knees go weak, Yusuf kept her steady. "They'll be here for the wedding, where I planned to give her to you."

"That's why you insisted Andromache be at the wedding," Yusuf smiled at his soon to be husband, he was smarter than anyone have him credit for. "And why you talked my father into letting Keane attend despite the horrors he's inflicted."

"Quynh has been under my protection for three years," Nicolò stated eyes sharp. "She has never been a slave, but my honored guest. I gave her my word Keane would pay with the highest punishment."

"He'll pay with his life," Andromache swore to him eyes cold.

The End


End file.
